what of tomorrow?

*what of tomorrow? obsessed with the bittersweet taste of you stirred into my everyday, i am encouraged to let my psyche run free. sparkling, crystal starbursts of ocean spray out shimmer any diamond ever cut, and outlast them, in memory, as well. in my visual periphery do i detect movement in aftertime? perhaps it is imagined, if that is truth, do not defile the dream. ©tlp 2010